


I Will Guide You In The Dark

by kopperblaze



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Durin Family Feels, awesome uncle Dwalin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopperblaze/pseuds/kopperblaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sons of Fundin are sworn to the house of Durin and they will not abandon their posts. </p><p>(Ficlets about Dwalin being an awesome uncle, his role in raising the princes of Durin, and staying with them until the end. </p><p>Please read the notes for chapter specific warnings)</p><p>Chapter One - Something I had to write after seeing BOTFA. Dwalin does his last duty. <br/>Chapter Two - Young Fili and Dwalin have a discussion about what it means to be an older brother. This one is happy I swear!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Spoilers for BOTFA, canon character death.
> 
>  
> 
> _Drawing in a breath, the icy air burning in his lungs, Dwalin forces himself to take the last few steps before sinking to his knees next to Fili’s body._

* * *

 

The ice crunches under his boots and at times he slides more than he walks, but he pushes on. The sweat is cooling on his skin, raising goosebumps, but he feels so hollow and cold on the inside that it hardly registers. In a way he guesses it’s appropriate. Behind him deep voices carry a tune of mourning and sorrow, hoping to guide their king home to the Maker’s Halls. For a second he thinks he should stand with them. His place has always been by Thorin’s side. But he has said his goodbyes and there are other’s standing guard now. He is needed elsewhere and Thorin would want him to go.   
  
With each step the voices are carried away farther by the wind until all he can hear is the sound of his boots falling heavily on the ground and the creaking of the   orc-scum bones breaking as he makes no effort to avoid stepping on their corpses. It’s cold and lonely up here and he is glad for his decision now. The company weeps over Thorin, the she-elf weeps over Kili, it’s not right that nobody should weep over Fili. The Lion of Durin deserves so much better than that. The dwarfling beneath the golden mane even more so.   
  
The snow around him is dark with his blood, body twisted awkwardly. His eyes are still empty and starring up into the sky unseeingly. He is a warrior and he has seen more than his share of death and yet Dwalin has to avert his eyes once more, has to take a second to compose himself. It is one thing to see your brothers-in-arms fall in battle, but to see the dwarf you helped raise killed before your eyes is something different entirely.   
  
Drawing in a breath, the icy air burning in his lungs, Dwalin forces himself to take the last few steps before sinking to his knees next to Fili’s body.   
  
“I’m here now, lad. Sorry it took me so long,” he murmurs, still only looking at the moustache braids and swallowing hard. “Got held up, but ye know I wouldn’t leave ya alone, don’t ya? Already broke my one promise to yer lady mother, not gonna break another.” He’ll look after the lads until the very end. And oh, how are they gonna tell Dis that while her homeland is reclaimed her family lies in ruins?   
  
Dwalin exhales sharply and wipes fingers stiff with cold over his eyes. “Ah, lad,” he sighs and shakes his head, finally forcing himself to look up. It still strikes him as surreal to see Fili’s eyes so hollow when they were always bright and so very alive. It’s not right, none of it.   
  
“Yer uncle was very proud of ye,” Dwalin says because he thinks Fili needs to hear it. The lad was so dutiful, so determined and skilled in everything he did that people often forgot to praise him for his accomplishments. But Dwalin has always been good at watching people and he saw the way Fili would stand up just a little straighter, the corners of his lips twitching as he tried not to break into a childish grin, whenever somebody remembered to compliment him.   
  
“We all are. You fought bravely today. And even…even in the end, you were so brave.” Dwalin’s voice breaks and he coughs, shaking his head. “Bet somewhere you and yer insufferable brother are laughing at me right now.” He takes comfort in the thought, his head falling back to look up at the sky. Night is slowly falling and soon the stars will be out. Looking back down he releases another shaky breath before reaching out and gently closing Fili’s eyes.   
  
“Sleep, Durin’s Lion. You shall be remembered until the world is unmade and remade again,” he murmurs, wishing for a second that Balin were here because he is much better at these things and because here, alone in the snow and surrounded by bodies, Dwalin suddenly longs for the comfort of his older brother. But Balin is watching over Thorin, as it should be. The sons of Fundin are sworn to the house of Durin, and they will not abandon their posts.   
  
Now, with his eyes closed, Fili looks like he is sleeping. Dwalin is familiar with the fan of his dark lashes, but usually when he sleeps Fili makes little noises and wrinkles his nose in his dreams. Dwalin would know, he has had a lifetime of studying the sleeping habits of the princes. They used to fall asleep on or next to  him as dwarflings, and later Dwalin would notice with an amused snort that they had kept the same habits when he came around them sleeping at camp while he kept watch.   
  
“Sometimes I swear you Durin lads were created to drive me mad,” he admits as weariness sets in and makes him sag forward a little. The quest, the dragon, Thorin’s sickness, watching the dwarves he considers family slaughtered in front of his eyes. It’s too much and it’s closing in on him and for a few seconds all he can do is struggle to breathe. But now is not the time to allow himself weakness, not when there are yet things he needs to do.   
  
Pushing one arm under Fili’s shoulders, the other beneath his knees, Dwalin slowly stands up and lifts the prince against his chest, cradling him like he did so many times when he was young. Only now he is still and heavy in his arms, not tugging on his beard or attempting to get his little hands on Grasper and Keeper. He’s still and Dwalin nearly chokes, his vision swimming as he turns to face Erebor and starts walking.   
  
“Let me take you home, my prince.” 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Dwalin have a discussion about the advantages of being an older brother.

* * *

 

Dwalin takes his time stuffing his pipe and lighting it, taking a deep drag. He’s all too aware that he’s being watched but pretends not to notice. He’s half-way through his pipe when Fili finally clears his throat.   
  
“Ah, good evening, Master Fili. I didn’t see ya there.”   
  
Fili wrinkles his nose and pulls himself up onto the bench, flopping gracelessly against Dwalin’s side.   
  
“You were ignoring me!” He purses his lips and glares up at Dwalin with the fierce intensity of squinting, newborn kitten. The warrior covers his laugh with a cough and ruffles Fili’s hair, causing the glare to intensify.   
  
“No I wasn’t. Jus’ didn’t see ya smidgen there.”   
  
Fili deflates and sinks back against Dwalin’s side, a warm little bundle smelling faintly of the lemon soap Dis uses for laundry. It’s testament to how far their people have fallen, cheap laundry soap the only luxury left to a princess.   
  
“Kili is <em>tiny</em> but everybody always sees him,” Fili mumbles, wrapping a loose piece of thread from Dwalin’s tunic around his pointer finger.   
  
“That so?” At least that explains the pouty mood Fili is in. Usually the boy is more patient than any dwarfling has a right to be, even-tempered like his father and sweet. The dark mood he’s in today is more suited to Thorin, but Dwalin supposes the Durin in Fili has to come through every now and again. Wrapping his arm around the dwarfling Dwalin pulls him tighter against his side. “How’s the wee beastie then?”   
  
“Sleepin’ and screamin’ and shittin’,” Fili grouses, sounding like a mithril copy of Thorin. Well, except for the highly pitched voice. Dwalin doesn’t even attempt to hold his booming laughter back this time. Peering up at him through his long lashes, Fili catches his bottom lip between his teeth, looking pleased with himself.   
  
“Don’t be telling amad I said that, Mister Dwalin. She says it’s not a nice thing to say.”   
  
“Aye, them ladyfolk, and yer lady mother especially, being a princess and all, like ta use more fancy words. I say us warriors say it as it is. Not like royalty shit different ta the rest of us.”   
  
Fili presses his face against Dwalin’s side, muffling his giggles. Dwalin pats his back and smirks around the stem of his pipe. Dis wouldn’t be happy about such a crude statement but as long as Fili is smiling again Dwalin considers his job well done.   
  
“Ye’re gonna enjoy being a big brother soon, I’m telling ya,” Dwalin states once Fili has stopped shaking with laughter against him.   
  
“Really?”  
  
“Really. Ask Balin. He sure enjoyed bossin’ me around. Still does, coming to think of it,” Dwalin huffs. He’s a warrior and captain of the guard and yet his brother still feels the need to criticise his meal choices and bully him into cleaning the house.   
  
“Mister Balin is your older brother?” Fili’s eyes widen.   
  
“Aye. I share yer horror about that, lad,” Dwalin chuckles.   
  
“But…you’re taller than him!” Fili turns and sits down on his haunches, frowning up at Dwalin like he’s just been told that Durin the Deathless was an elf.   
  
“Aye, that I am.” And proud of it he is as well, not that Dwalin would ever admit it out loud. “Being older doesn’t mean being taller.”   
  
“So Kili is gunna be taller than me one day?” If possible Fili’s horror intensifies, little fists tugging on Dwalin’s tunic.   
  
“I don’t know lad. It’s possible.” Especially since Kili seems to take after the Durins while Fili takes after the Ironfists. Vili was a tad shorter than Dis, stocky in built and lighter in colouring. “But ye’ll still always be the older one and get ta do things first.”   
  
Fili sucks in his cheeks as he mulls that over in his mind, looking so pensive and adorable at the same time that Dwalin barely resists the urge to pinch his cheek.   
  
“I was always mighty jealous when Balin got ta take up weapons training before me. Kicked up a right stink ‘bout it too, but I still had ta wait a few more years afore me da allowed me ta train with him,” Dwalin supplements. It has the desired effect and Fili’s face lights up again as he nods to himself.   
  
“I s’posse that’s all right then.” Fili flops down in Dwalin’s lap and looks up at him with wide blue eyes.   
  
“I think I should stay the night, uncle Dwalin. Then we can play orc raid again.”   
  
Dwalin looks at the dwarfling and his impossible earnest face, reaching out and poking Fili’s tiny nose. The lad is going to be trouble one day. Already he makes diplomatic moves to get what he wants and hides his devious plans behind his angelic face. Dwalin is gleefully looking forward to watching Dis and Thorin being played when Fili reaches adolscence.   
  
“Should ye now? We’ll have ta ask yer amad ‘bout that, lad.”   
  
“She’ll be fine with it,” Fili quickly assures Dwalin, scrambling to his knees again. Even kneeling on Dwalin’s thighs he has to tilt his head back to look at the warrior. “Please?”   
  
Dwalin stares down at Fili before huffing and scooping the dwarfling up into his arms and getting to his feet, putting his pipe away. “We’ll go ask yer amad anyway. If she agrees we start our attack on Balin the old grouser and plunder the cookie jar. Aye?”   
  
“Aye!” Fili screams, raising his fist.   
  
  



End file.
